DESIR –- Or how many different ways to endanger life and limb!
If a blazing light had not been directed right into my eyes so that I had to hold one hand up to shield them from the intense glare, I would have, without reservation, enjoyed the airborne antics of Olaf Triebel in the first act of ‘Desir,” the 90-minute acrobatic show in Spiegeltent at South Street Seaport. Triebel is an astounding performer; he balances on one hand on various size stanchions with wooden tops, twisting his body into inconceivable off-balance shapes, his feet always pointed into exclamation points and his legs rod straight. Why he hides beneath a black cloth clutching a toy boat is hardly worth a thought when you have witnessed the body sculpture he creates in the air. Perhaps he missed the plane to Beijing. Never mind, the medals aren’t even real gold, and Triebel is the golden boy champion sensation of “Desir.”
In fact, all the performers in this ensemble are superior daredevils considering they have a stage the size of a round dinner table for six and have nowhere to go but up, out, or (perish the thought) down into the adoring audience.
The program has the taste of a Paris nightclub around the turn of the century, semi-seedy beauties in dressing gowns milling among the truly fit young men in muscle-defining white tights. Each has a place as window dressing while waiting his turn to peel off his chiffon and feathers and plunge into simply amazing stunts. The show begins with Maria Victoria Di Pace singing “My Man,” and we get a bit of the narrative that seemed to be the weakest part of this almost 90-minute show. Relationships abound – boys and boys, girls and girls and the heterosexual pairings -- some intertwined above the stage floor, some lolling about on various chaises. Making sense of it all obviously was not the point of this nostalgic trip back to French theatre and its once famous stars. It is the fearless feats showing astonishing body control while poised high above the stage floor and the seamless choreography of John “Cha-Cha” O’Connell with an assist from Pilates that hold the attention. Note: Did you know that Joseph Pilates was a circus performer way back before his exercise notions exploded into big business?
Marawa Ibrahim
Photo by Joan Marcus
Who cares who kisses who when he/she is hanging by one ankle or one wrist while swinging high in the vast reaches of the tent? It was the imminent danger engendered by the performers that powered the praise and wild applause. Marieve Hemond and Annie-Kim Dehry couple high above the audience on a trapeze bar held in place by four chains. These ladies have no joints -- just legs of iron. Weaving limbs in between the chains, holding on with flexed feet while upside down, always perfectly balanced, they maintained a steady rather erotic connection to one another. Then there are the four Russian sailors, ranging in size from jockey height to weight lifter (guess which one is the bottom), building human pyramids on this pint-sized stage where one false move plops you right into a ticket buyer’s lap.
Wearing gold-spangled high heels, Marawa Ibrahim twirled what seemed like a dozen hula hoops around her mid-section, adding a few to each arm in a dizzying display. She had as much fun herself as she was generating, and the audience relished her contribution. A rendition of “Don’t Touch Me Tomatoes,” sung with perfect wit by Di Pace, inspired Ibrahim’s talented mid-section to keep all those hoops aloft.
Half the fun of “Desir” is getting there. The Seaport at Pier 17 is a wonderment of lights, boats, people, food – a show in itself. And getting inside the darkened tent was the icing on the cake full of tantalizing acts performed by young men and women who train their muscles in such an exacting way allowing them to keep cool high above the stage floor.